The Broken
by jenni midnight
Summary: AU: Just a little story of how the two might have met…. He felt like some kind of Peepin' Tom, yet he couldn't pull himself away. He never could. Anytime the woman was around, Daryl found himself watching her, always from afar, and today was no different.
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY:**

AU: Just a little story of how the two might have met…. He felt like some kind of Peepin' Tom, yet he couldn't pull himself away. He never could. Anytime the woman was around, Daryl found himself watching her, always from afar, and today was no different.

**STORY NOTES:**

* No Zombies

* I have no idea where this is going, but the story just wouldn't leave me alone. lol

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - : **indicates a scene break

**- - : ~ * ~ : - -** appears before and after any flashbacks

All flashbacks and/or inner thoughts are in _italics_

**DISCLAIMER:**

This fanfic has been written purely for entertainment value, with no money being made from this work. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners with no copyright infringement intended. The original characters/places/plot/etc. are the sole property of the author. Thank you.

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

**- THE BROKEN -**

**- **CHAPTER ONE** -**

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

Daryl pushed the lawnmower into the storage building and closed the door. "Hot as hell," he mumbled to himself as he wiped at the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. The temperature was well into the hundreds and the hot Georgia sun had just about gotten the better of him. But, he didn't waste time whining about the conditions… he'd had a job to do and it didn't matter if it was 100 degrees or 10 below, you do what needs tendin' to.

Walking back to the groundskeeper's office, Daryl sipped on the last of his now piss warm bottle of water. You gotta keep hydrated in this kind of weather, didn't make a difference if it was cold or not, though that surely would have helped.

When he'd finally made his way inside the building, the cool breeze of the old air conditioner welcomed him.

"Damn, that's good," he said aloud before plopping himself down at his desk. Though his fingers twitched to turn the dial up to HIGH, common sense knew better. The quickest way to get sick would be to go between extreme temps too fast. You learn these things when you've been on your own as long as he had.

Glancing at the time, he sighed. 4 o'clock. One more hour and then he was free of the place until Monday and Daryl couldn't wait. It had been a long week and he was ready for the break. He scolded himself then as he took another drink of water. He knew he shouldn't complain. It was a job and a good paying one at that. Added bonus was that he didn't really have to deal with too many people… perks of working at a cemetery, you know?

He'd come in every morning, tend to what needed fixin', mow the lawn, pretty up the bushes and make sure that the place looked tidy. It wasn't a bad trade off considering that he was pretty much on his own, no real boss to loom over him. He did as he wanted at his own pace and every other Friday, Old Man Greene would come by and pay him and compliment him on the fine job he was doing in taking care of the place.

The cemetery was the largest in the county and had been there for a good hundred years. Mr. Hershel Greene owned the land and made sure that the place was always well kept, with a personal touch. He liked the land to be kept tidy… serene. You wouldn't find a lot of workers there; just a handful of people that had been there for years and that's just the way Mr. Greene had intended to keep it. Personal.

**- - : ~ * ~ : - -**

_"You respect the dead as much as the living, son_," _the old man had told him once. "They were all something to someone and need to be remembered as such." _

_Daryl had nodded as he chewed at the corner of his mouth._

_"Dignity," Hershel continued. "That's what we give 'em here. They're not just a name on a slab. They're family and friends."_

_"I understand," Daryl told him and Hershel had believed him, hiring him on the spot._

**- - : ~ * ~ : - -**

Plopping down in the old wooden chair, Daryl took out his paperwork and began filling in the appropriate information, glancing up occasionally at the window in front of him. It was a clear shot of the biggest part of the cemetery and was always a nice distraction. He was glad for the view, grinning slightly before bringing his attention back to the task at hand.

When he'd finished, he filed the papers away and then titled his chair back on its hind legs and propped his feet up on the desk. He'd take a few more minutes and then he'd finish up for the day.

His eyes, again, peered out the window, scanning the scenery in front of him… that's when he saw her. He'd wondered where she'd been, having been a few days since he'd seen her last.

The lady in question was tall and slender, her gray laced locks falling just shy of her shoulders. Daryl remembered when it was almost a buzz cut. Now, it was longer, a few wispy curls scattered throughout. It looked good on her, he decided, wondering why he'd even noticed at all.

The woman walked slowly, a slight hobble to her movements and Daryl squinted his eyes as if trying to make out why. Her right arm was across her stomach as she walked and he knew exactly where she was going; to Sophia.

Sophia Peletier. That's what the grave read.

**Sophia Peletier  
Daughter  
Until we meet again…**

Daryl sighed as he remembered the words on the marble slab. The girl had been 12 years old when she'd passed and it made him ache just thinking of the loss the woman had felt. He could only imagine by the grief she held over this child, that she had been Sophia's mother.

In the three years that Daryl had worked at the place, this lady… this grieving woman, had been a constant. She visited every few days. Always alone, always so sad… a look on her face that Daryl longed to make disappear.

The few times they'd been in contact with each other had just been in passing. The first had been after a big storm. Flowers had been dislodged from the ground and some small limbs had fallen, so Daryl was on clean up duty. He was picking up some branches off a grave, when he'd seen her. She was kneeling in front of the headstone, one hand splayed out across the marble, while her head was down and she was sobbing.

Daryl had dropped his head, feeling like an intruder on such an intimate moment. She was grieving and though he had wanted to comfort her, he had quietly slipped away and went to work on the other side of the lot.

The second time had been less uncomfortable, but just as brief. The woman had been at the little girl's grave for hours while he had been hard at work repainting parts of a wooden fence that sectioned off a small area of the cemetery. He had been parched beyond words, but kept telling himself that he'd just paint a few more boards and then he'd take a break. The next thing he knew, she had been at his side.

**- - : ~ * ~ : - -**

_"Here," she told him, offering him a bottle of water, her blue eyes shining. "You look like you could use it."_

_Daryl had been stunned but graciously, with a blush rising to his cheeks he might add, accepted the cool drink. "Thanks," he'd said hoarsely, his eyes meeting hers._

_She had smiled. Not a big, toothy one; just a simple smile, with a hint of sadness around the edges. "You're welcome," she said timidly and then turned and walked away._

**- - : ~ * ~ : - -**

Daryl snorted as he remembered the encounter.

Standing up, he moved to the window to get a better view of her. He felt like some kind of Peepin' Tom, yet he couldn't pull himself away. He never could. Anytime the woman was around, Daryl found himself watching her, always from afar, and today was no different. He'd almost thought he wasn't going to see her again this week and that thought had bothered him more than he cared to dwell on.

Chewing on his fingernail, he watched… she stood for a while, talking as she always did, to the little girl she'd lost. He frowned, wishing there was some way he could have changed the turn of events that had taken the child from her. But, he couldn't.

Just as he was about to force himself to move away, he watched her sway a bit, an oddness to her movements.

"What's wrong with her?" he wondered aloud, watching as she continued to seem off balance.

Another second and Daryl watched helplessly as the woman fell to the ground. As he ran for the door, tripping over himself as he tried to reach her, he said the only words he could think to say.

"OH SHIT!"

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**


	2. Chapter 2

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

**- THE BROKEN -**

**- **CHAPTER TWO** -**

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

"Shit, shit, shit," was all Daryl could say as he ran across the cemetery lawn. He had to get to the woman to make sure she was okay.

Seconds seemed like hours, but he kept trekking on, making his way toward her. When he finally reached her, she was still lying on the ground. His hand immediately went to her cheek and he tapped it lightly. "Miss?"

Nothing.

He did it again. "Miss? Miss are ya okay?"

_"Of course she's not okay,"_ he scolded himself. _"Or else she wouldn't be passed out now would she?"_

Daryl shook his head and frowned. His hand went to her forehead and she was warm, but not hot, so he was ruling out a sunstroke. He looked around to see if there were any other people in the yard to help, but found none. It didn't matter though, because he still needed to get her out of the heat, he'd just have to do it alone.

"Alright now," he told her, even though he wasn't sure she could even hear him. "I'm gonna pick you up and take you to the office, get ya in some cool air." Timidly, he lifted her into his arms, turning to run back across the lawn. As he carried her, he realized how tiny she was, feeling light as feather in his arms.

_"She needs to eat,"_ he told himself.

Kicking the door open to the office, Daryl looked around to try and figure where best to put her. There wasn't a couch, and the desk was too small, so the floor would have to do. He quickly grabbed his jacket from the desk chair and threw it to the floor, spreading it out with his foot and then he lowered her onto it. He took off his shirt and crumpled it up, placing it tenderly under her head.

Again he touched her cheek. "Miss, c'mon now, talk to me."

Nothing.

Daryl moved from her side and dug the red handkerchief from his back pocket, dowsing it with a fresh bottle of cold water from the mini fridge. Seconds later he was at her side again, running the cloth across her forehead.

Slowly, she began to stir.

After a few swipes at her forehead, blue eyes finally shown up at him and he smiled. "Hey there bright eyes," he said with a smile, his hand going to her cheek. "Bout time ya woke up."

The lady stared at him for a moment and then tried to scoot away, a look of worry on her face.

"Hey now," Daryl began, putting his hands up as if surrendering to a cop. When he realized she was staring at his bare chest he chewed at his lip, knowing how bad it must look. "Listen, I ain't tryin' to hurt ya. Ya passed out and I brought ya in here to get ya outta the heat. Didn't have no couch, so I used my shirt and jacket to give ya somethin' to lay on." There was an edge of hurt in his voice when he looked at her. "I would never hurt ya."

She stared at him for a good long minute; her eyes squinted as she tried to focus on him. "The groundskeeper?" she finally questioned, and Daryl watched her relax a little.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's me."

"I'm at the cemetery?" she asked again, seeming confused.

"Yeah," he told her. "I think maybe ya just got too hot. These temps are a killer."

She nodded and a slight grin formed on her face. "You can put your hands down, ya know?"

Daryl grinned back and slowly let his arms fall to his sides. "Thanks. I'm Daryl, by the way."

"Carol," she said softly, her eyes darting away from his.

He grabbed his shirt from the floor and quickly put it back on, hoping she hadn't noticed the scars. Then, he was on his feet, walking across the small room and gathering two more bottles of water from the fridge.

"Here," he said as he offered her one. "You should probably drink this. But, drink it slow."

Carol gladly took the bottle from his hand and nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

After taking a sip, she glanced back over at him, a look of sorrow on her face. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"Trouble?" Daryl repeated. "Pffft. Ain't no trouble at all. I was just finishin' up for the day and happened to glance out the window."

_He lied, but he couldn't really tell her that he'd been watchin' her, now could he?_

"Good thing, too. I saw ya go down and went to help."

"I'm so embarrassed," she told him, a slight pink coming to her cheeks.

"Nothin' to be embarrassed about," he told her. "Like I said, this heat's a killer. Ya…" he trailed off then, dropping his head. "Should be more careful."

Carol nodded. "I know."

She moved then, attempting to get up from the floor and seemed surprised when Daryl held out a hand to help her. Smiling, she slipped her hand into his and let him pull her up.

She grimaced a little and Daryl was quick to notice it.

"You hurt?" he asked, more concern in his voice than he hadn't wanted to show.

"I…"

"Did ya hurt yourself when ya passed out?"

"Maybe." Carol dropped her head, a look of shame covering her features. "I'm so clumsy."

Daryl stared at her, his hands aching to touch her cheek again, but he just made a fist at his side instead. "Should I call a doc for ya?"

"No," she blurted out quickly. "I'm fine."

"Ya sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Something in Daryl's gut told him she was lying, but he didn't push it. _"None of my business," _he told himself. _"Stay out of it."_

"Well," she started, searching his eyes. "I've wasted enough of your time…"

Daryl frowned. "Ya ain't wasted nothin'."

Carol frowned.

"You need to finish that water before ya head back out, though."

"Oh," she seemed surprised by his concern. "Okay."

"I still gotta finish cleanin' up in here before I can leave," he told her. "Why don't ya drink that water while I do it, then I'll walk ya to your car."

She smiled then and Daryl felt his insides tie in knots.

"If you're sure?"

"I am."

With a grin, Carol eased herself down into the chair and took another sip of her water. "Who knew that chivalry still existed?"

"Stahp," he warned, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Jus' doin' what anyone else would do."

"Not everyone," she whispered and Daryl wasn't sure if he had even been meant to hear the comment, but something about it made him hurt.

35 minutes later, when Daryl placed the broom back against the wall, he sighed. "All done," he mumbled and tried his best to think of something else to do to keep them there. Sadly, there was nothing. In honesty, the office was cleaner now than it had ever been. He smirked when he thought about it. _"Ol' Mr. Greene won't know what to think."_

He turned to look at Carol then. She was still sitting in her chair, sipping at her water. He glanced at his watch. "Closing time," he announced, a bit of disappointment in his voice.

Slowly, Carol stood from her chair and straightened her clothes, staring at him nervously.

"After you," Daryl told her as he opened the office door, the heat rushing in with a force all its own.

A few minutes later, the two found themselves outside the cemetery gates. Oddly, Carol's car was parked next to Daryl's motorcycle.

Carol smiled as she watched Daryl settle himself down onto the machine. "Nice bike," she told him and Daryl grinned.

"Thanks."

She walked to him then and before Daryl knew what she was doing, Carol had placed a kiss to his temple. He had almost flinched at the action, but calmed himself before he could do anything so silly.

"Thank you," Carol whispered before turning her back to him.

Daryl watched her as she slipped inside her station wagon and drove away. As he revved up the bike and headed toward home, a name played in his head over and over. "Carol."

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**


	3. Chapter 3

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

**- THE BROKEN -**

- CHAPTER THREE -

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

The weekend passed at an amazingly slow pace and Daryl didn't like it. Normally, his two days off couldn't go by fast enough, but this time was different. This time, they seemed to drag on and on with every waking moment spent with one thing on his mind.

Carol.

"Damn woman," he mumbled as he tinkered with his motorcycle.

One brief encounter with her and he'd seemingly had his world turned upside down. He would never admit that his jacket still smelled of her, a soft hint of vanilla and lilacs, or that he had brought it to his nose on more than one occasion. He would also never admit that the soft press of her lips against his temple had sent a fire rushing through his body that he'd never felt before. He was Daryl Damn Dixon and he was never fazed by some woman. Never. So how come he was?

"You about done?" came the gruff voice from behind him.

Daryl turned to see his brother, with his hands on his hips, staring at him smugly. "I'd like ta get ta Roady's 'fore all the women are picked o'er."

"Well go on," Daryl grumbled back at him. "Ain't no one stoppin' ya."

"Damn, baby brother, what's got yer panties in a twist?"

"Nothin'."

_He lied._

"Nothin', my ass." Merle huffed out as he stepped closer. "And 'sides that, I want ya ta go ta the bar with me ta celebrate my early release."

Daryl threw the wrench down into the toolbox. "I still can't believe they let ya out early for good behavior."

"I was a model prisoner, I'll have ya ta know!"

"Pfft." Daryl almost choked on his brother's words. "Ya just didn't get caught is all."

"Watch it now, little brother, or you're liable ta hurt my delicate feelin's," Merle teased as he batted his lashes and feigned offense.

"What feelin's?" Daryl teased back before leaning against the bike.

Merle was at him in an instant glaring at him with a furrowed brow, but then a devilish grin crept onto his face and he threw his arm around his younger brother. "C'mon little brother. Ol' Merle's in need of a little piece o' ass."

Daryl knew this was a battle he was sure to lose, and really, he could use the distraction, so he let Merle drag him toward the house. "Fine," he finally told him. "I'll be ready in ten."

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

Roady's Bar and Grill had been a favorite hangout of Daryl and Merle's since they were old enough to drink, actually even before then if truth be told. Daryl didn't visit the establishment much anymore but he when he was in the mood for a drink, this was where he went. It was his "Home Away From Home" so to speak, and the minute he walked through the door, a group of regulars called out "Dixon!" to him and Merle. It was like they were living their very own redneck version of "Cheers".

Rudy, the owner, met them with a smile as the brothers took a seat at the bar. "Well Merle Dixon, I thought ya was still in jail?"

"Early release," Merle told him, as he swung the barstool around to scan the joint for women. "They let me out for good behavior."

"The hell you say?" Rudy said with shock and laughter in his voice.

Merle swung back around to face him, frowning. "Now why is everybody havin' such a hard time believin' that I can be good?"

Both Daryl and Rudy stared at Merle, smirking, but it was Daryl who spoke up. "Really?" he asked, sarcasm oozing from his voice.

"Oh shut up," Merle said in defeat, turning back around. "Bunch o' damn cynics."

Rudy gave a large belly laugh and then moved to fill their order. "What can I get you boys to drink?"

"Whatever's on tap," Daryl told him, smiling at the old man.

Rudy nodded and filled the glasses up and plopped them down on the counter. "Well, if you're just gettin' out, I figure you're lookin' for some action, huh Merle?"

"Damn straight," the older Dixon said as he took a swig of his beer.

Rudy laughed as he popped a handful of peanuts into his mouth. "Well, ya came on a good night then."

"Oh yeah?" Daryl questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"It's Ladies Night."

"The hell you say," Merle said with a toothy grin, mimicking Rudy's words from earlier. "Well I'll be damned, I guess it's Ol' Merle's lucky day all the way around." With that, he scooted of his stool and disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

"He'll never learn," Daryl mumbled as he took a drink of his beer.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks, Daryl." Rudy told him. "Ya should stop tryin'."

Daryl nodded in agreement before taking a drink of his beer. He could already tell that this was gonna be one helluva long night.

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

Three hours later, Daryl stepped outside for a cigarette break and some fresh air. Merle was holed up in some corner making out with two chicks he'd met just thirty minutes after they'd arrived. As much as Daryl thought his big brother was an ass, the women flocked to him. Merle could charm the pants off of any woman, and had proven so on more than one occasion.

Taking another drag off his cigarette, he leaned against the old red pickup they'd come to town in. He wanted nothing more than to crawl inside and head home, but he knew that Merle was nowhere near ready to go.

_"Good thing tomorrow's Sunday,"_ he thought to himself as he flung his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. _"Or my ass would be draggin' at work."_

He pushed himself off the truck and headed back inside, but was quickly met by Rudy. "Daryl, would ya mind doin' me favor?"

"Depends on the favor," Daryl mumbled.

"I got a new tenant…"

"You're shittin' me," Daryl interrupted. "Somebody's actually takin' the room above this place?"

"Hey!" Rudy defended. "It's not that bad!"

"Riiight," Daryl teased. "Who wouldn't wanna live above a bar with music blaring all night and a bunch o' rowdy rednecks occupyin' it?"

"Well, she didn't seem ta mind," Rudy countered.

Daryl stood stunned for a moment. "She?" he repeated. "Ya can't be serious in lettin' some woman move in up there."

"I surely am."

"Holy hell, Rudy." Daryl said, flustered at the old man. "Why the hell would ya let some woman move in?"

Rudy dropped his head. "I felt sorry for her," he said truthfully.

"Why?"

"Well, she was real desperate, ya see. She came in askin' about the Help Wanted sign I had out for a new cook. I hired her right off. Man, she's good in the kitchen."

"Why aint' she cookin' then?"

"I told her she could start Monday. Anyway, I told her the wages and she looked a little sad, telling me about how she had to find a new place and all. I knew my salary wasn't really enough for her, so I offered to let her stay in the apartment for a third of the price. She accepted."

Daryl frowned, feeling bad for the woman in question. "She musta been awful desperate."

"I think she's runnin'." Rudy said as he popped a peanut into his mouth.

"From what?"

Rudy shrugged. "Not sure. Boyfriend? Husband? Who knows. All I can tell ya was that as she was loading boxes up the stairs, I saw some bruises peaking out from under her shirt."

"Damn it," Daryl mumbled. Abuse was always a sore spot with him. He never talked about it, but everyone in the town knew what kind of an ass the Dixon Boys had for a father. The thoughts of some poor woman being on the receiving end of some man's wrath just didn't set well with him. With a frown he looked at Rudy. "What's the favor?"

Patting him on the back, Rudy smiled. "She's upstairs tryin' to clean the place up. Ain't had nobody up there in over a year. Anyway, she called a minute ago and said she'd seen some mouse droppin's. Can ya run these traps up there to her? I'd do it, but…"

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl growled as he took the traps and started walking toward the end of the building.

"You're a life saver Dixon," Rudy yelled out to him as he rounded the corner. "Next beer's on the house!"

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**

Daryl slowly climbed the stairs that lead to the apartment above Roady's. When he reached the top, he gave a quick knock and then scooted back and waited for someone to answer the door.

"Who's there?" a timid voice asked him.

"Rudy sent me," he yelled out to her. "Told me ta bring ya some traps."

Inside he could hear someone shuffling around and then three locks were undone and a still-chained door partially opened.

Daryl reached his hand through the gap and held out the traps to her. "Here ya go," he told her, slanting his head a little trying to get a glimpse of the woman, but she stayed hidden behind the door.

She told him, "Thanks," as she grabbed at the traps, her small hand lightly touching his.

"It's nothin," he said with a scoff. "I'm just deliverin' them cause Rudy's ass is too lazy to climb the stairs."

He could hear her laugh and his insides knotted up. It was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard.

"I appreciate it," she told him and something about her voice sounded so familiar.

"Well, I best get goin'."

"Okay."

Again, the voice just sounded so familiar. He had to ask. He just had to.

"Carol?" he finally blurted out, moving again in an effort to see who was inside.

Without a word, the door slammed shut and Daryl sighed in frustration.

"I didn't meant ta scare ya," he said earnestly. "I just thought ya was someone I knew. Met 'em at the cemetery."

_"At the cemetery,"_ he scolded himself quietly. _"Now she's gonna think I'm some kind of damn weirdo."_

A second later he heard the chain slide and waited with unexpected excitement as the door began to open. When it did, the small frame of a woman stood before him and Daryl smiled as his eyes met her.

"Daryl," she said softly and the name sounded like a caress on her lips. "We meet again."

He nodded, unable to speak.

She crossed her arms, pulling her sweater tighter against her form. "Always comin' to my rescue, aren't ya?"

"Seems like it," he finally answered, swallowing hard.

"Oh," she blurted out, startling him as he stared at her. "Where are my manners?"

Unsure of what she meant, Daryl furrowed his brow and look at her questioningly.

"Welcome to my Shangri La," she teased. "Won't you come in?"

"Yeah," he told her as he moved toward the entryway. "I think I will…"

**: - - - : - - - - : - * - : - - - - : - - - :**


End file.
